There is an odd crackling sound as Sparky’s fishy mouth opens. It hangs there. You wait. You begin to hear a sound like an airplane flying overhead – a faint, breathy roar. You look up, to stare at the perfectly clear blue sky for a moment, and then realize it’s only Sparky, sucking in one absurdly long, deep breath. The words that finally emerge from Sparky’s mouth sound like they’ve been stewed overnight. In a cave. One that’s been sealed for five thousand years. “Not… ..for… …. …sale. It’s…probably…cursed. I have to… …check.. …before I can… …sell… …it.” You blink. You look a little closer at the cozy calico. It’s a very pretty cat. The pattern painted into its orange and black and white ceramic fur is almost…mesmerizing. And really rather intricate, now that you’re looking a bit closer. Oddly intricate. Maybe this fish is onto something. That said, this absolutely looks like something your imaginary friend might buy for you from a thrift store. It screams such harmless, everyday innocence. It would be so easy to sneak it into someone’s life, so easy for it to have snuck into your old life. Thinking of it as cursed is…a little difficult. The thought feels absurd, and…disturbing, too, in a vague, highly-unsettling way. “Why do you have it up here, then?” you ask. There is a very, very, very long pause. “Looks…good… …there… …with…the others…completes… …would make… …angry… …with… …wouldn’t want that…” There is a sound like static and a vague slap, like a fish slapping marble. Sparky was cutting out like a radio. What on earth? You wait for a moment. Then for another moment. Absolutely nothing happens. Sparky does not even move. Flurries of annoyance and puzzlement are swirling into worries. “Hello?” you ask. Are you still alive? you mean. “He…llo,” Sparky replies. You breathe a very slight sigh of relief. “You were, um, talking about the calico cat?” “No.” Well, okay. |